


You Caused It

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Spadeliano, Suburra - La Serie | Suburra: Blood on Rome (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Comfort Sex, Denial of Feelings, Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Feelz, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Men Crying, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, One True Pairing, Pining, Season 1, Sex, Spadino pov, Swearing, True Love, What Should Have Been, What Was I Thinking?, daje, inspired by a song, these bois will be the end of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 09:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18547192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Season 1 episode 10. The one where Aureliano comes to his fucking senses.





	You Caused It

**Author's Note:**

> I got inspired by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QT5eGHCJdE  
> and "Take me to Church."  
> I thought Jesus this is THEM. I can't stop writing them. I don't know what's wrong with me.  
> As always, this isn't canon. I've played with timelines. This is my version of them unless they're in public.

It’s like he’s looking down on himself from above. This isn’t really happening to him. No.  
He’s just an observer. Floating in the air above the bed like a drone.  
An eyewitness to the death of his soul.  
  
Alberto’s buried balls deep. There are fingers biting deeply into his chest.  
His own teeth bite deeply into his lower lip.  
The truth. That’s slowly eating away at him. In deep tiny bites.  
  
Everything right now is chatter and canines and misery. His brain is a fucking battlefield.  
  
One Two Three Four Five  
He can feel them digging into his breast. Well, barely.  
Alberto is mostly numb. Dead but not dead… but dead. At least at this point he could be. Wishes he was.  
This is what Aureliano has given him. A deathless death.  
_Good God let me give you my life, Aurelià._  
  
Fuck. You could peel back his skin. Torture him. Put strong hands around Alberto’s throat and choke him out. Make him see a kaleidoscope of stars and colors and still…  
It wouldn’t matter. Aureliano’s words at the parking lot were his demise.  
Not a sweet death.  
Just bitterness and alienation and self-hatred for two. No need to book ahead of time.  
  
A warm palm on his thigh steadies the perspiring frame above him. The body that bounces on his half-limp cock in time to a metronome that doesn’t exist.  
It sinks down after every even breath Alberto takes. His heart is so far from racing it isn’t even funny.  
  
He makes a motion to move the hand away. The feel of its clammy moistness against his flesh is revolting.  
The slap of skin against skin is revolting.  
**smack smack smack**  
This whole situation is revolting. Alberto’s surprised he can even get it up this much.  
  
The heat… the clench. It’s there. He knows it’s there, he can see his dick plunge in and out of the tight opening that swallows his sex… but he feels nothing. Inside him there’s nothing left but self-loathing and contempt.  
  
Alberto stares up. Squints. Through a teary haze, he registers blond hair. Eyes the color of a summer sky. Creamy skin.  
He’s fooling himself. This isn’t Aureliano. There are no tattoos. No jewelry. This guy smells like cigarettes and cum and Aureliano smells like… well he smells like a goddamn baby angel. Fresh and clean and pure.  
This? This is some dimestore whore he picked up at the park.  
  
The guilt and the disgust hit him at the same time and he winces. Alberto’s stomach turns over. It’s like there’s gasoline in his belly and he’s lighting a match to it.  
Burn baby burn.  
  
For a moment he thinks he’s going to puke.  
  
Tilting his head, Alberto slides his parched lips to one side to catch a shallow breath. He bites into the corner of his pert mouth, trying to blink away the hot tears he can feel forming.  
He lays limp, like the hands that rest at his sides. He listens to the words of the song playing in the background as the mattress below dips in time to the springing above him.

 _“Shadows settle on the place, that you left_  
_Our minds are troubled by the emptiness…_

 _And if you’re still breathing, you’re the lucky ones_  
_‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs_  
_Setting fire to our insides for fun_  
_Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong… the lovers that went wrong”_

The stone lodged in his throat seems to grow. The scalding tears come suddenly and not even the fierce blinking can stop their flow.  
“So vicino…” _I’m close_ …  the man above him moans.  
Alberto shuts his eyes and abandons himself to the grief. Mourning is a lonely affair.  
  
_“Well I’ve lost it all, I’m just a silhouette_  
_A lifeless face that you’ll soon forget_  
_My eyes are damp from the words you left_  
_Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest_  
_Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest”_

  
Frocio demmerda, che gioco è?!  
Quelli come te a me me fanno schifo. _Fucking faggot, what game is this? People like you make me sick  
_Spadino remembers what Aureliano said. How could he ever forget?!

“Vieni e vattene…” _Finish and get the fuck out_   Alberto mutters, brine on his lips.  
A moment and a groan later there’s more salt on his chest.

 _“And if you’re in love, then you are the lucky one_  
_‘Cause most of us are bitter over someone_  
_Setting fire to our insides for fun_  
_To distract our hearts from ever missing them_  
_But I’m forever missing him”_

He ties off the condom. Throws it in the trash.  
Alberto didn’t even come.    
Whatshisface gets dressed in silence. Before he goes he half turns. A look of pity clouds his worn visage.   
“Chi t'ha conciato n sto modo… mi spiace. Non sei er primo a piangè durante il sesso. Prendite cura de te.” _Whoever broke your heart… I’m sorry. You’re not the first client who’s cried during sex. Take care of yourself._  
  
As the door to the cheap hotel room closes, Alberto’s head drops into his cold trembling hands.  
He allows himself to fall apart. Crying dismally, he smothers the noise by biting into the fleshy part of his hand as vicious sobs make him rock in place.

-  
  
The air is stale and reeks of sweat and booze. Spadino can barely perceive the odor… he’s inhaling in shallow puffs, his lungs tight under his rib cage.  
Veiled, liquid eyes study the bottles of alcohol lining the colored shelves behind the bar. A few more shades and it’d be a pride flag.  
What a fucking joke.  
  
_Frocio demmerda, che gioco è?!_ _Quelli come te a me me fanno schifo._  
  
Spadino is retching for breath. It’s burning in his throat like the whiskey he just guzzled. Sharp shoulder blades shake with harsh sobs he can’t control.  
He makes no attempt to stop them, the tears coursing down his face. Uselessly he tries to quiet a voice that only knows how to howl.

 _Frocio demmerda, che gioco è?! Quelli come te a me me fanno schifo._  
  
_People like me make him sick._  
His dark eyes dart down. Lashes like brushes flutter. He picks up the stool and without hesitation throws it directly into the bottles he was studying earlier.  
Next is the whiskey bottle from which he had just taken a sip.  
It all comes crashing down like his fucking life came crashing down yesterday.  
  
There’s nothing left in him but emptiness coated in anguish. A sick, tortuous sensation of being wrung from the inside out. 

A scream slices through the fog in his brain. His mouth is parched. Spadino licks his lips with a papery tongue and opens his mouth.  
He shrieks.  
Once.  
Twice.  
  
Then a noise behind him makes him start.  
  
“Spadì…”  
  
For fuck’s sake. That voice. It can’t be. His mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way.  
Shifting his tiny body, he turns to find Aureliano standing a few steps from him. Pale cheeks leach further from color as the heat in his body drops to his quivering legs.  
  
“Aurelià…”  
For a moment he forgets he’s supposed to be pissed. Heartbroken. Fucking devastated.  
The sight of the love of his life standing there with his arms hanging at his sides and a look of utter contrition fills his heart with love once more.  
But then he remembers.  
_Frocio demmerda, che gioco è?! Quelli come te a me me fanno schifo._  
  
“So io Spadì” _It’s me Spadì._  
  
Aureliano’s red-rimmed watery eyes blink. He looks like shit. Tired. Pale. Wrecked.  
He does nothing to hide his expression spelling agony.  
  
Alberto wipes away tears with the sleeve of his jacket. He sniffles. Alberto straightens himself to look taller and squares his shoulders.  
  
“Se me sei venuto a ammazzà, fallo…” _If you’re here to kill me just do it._  
Spadino points to his heart, then extends his arms like Christ on the cross. A martyr to love.    
“Perché senza de te so’ morto comunque.” _I’m dead without you anyway._  
  
Aureliano’s breath hitches. He winces. A fist finds itself pressed up against his lips trying to stop the whimper about to escape him. His desperate gasp clips the silence.  
“Non son qua per ammazzarte. Te devo dì ‘na cosa. So’ stato ‘na testa de cazzo.” _I’m not here to kill you. I have to tell you something. I’ve been an asshole._  
  
Alberto’s black eyebrows tie together. Confusion takes over his face while hope slowly creeps back into his heart. He hates himself for it, just a little bit.   
  
“Cazzo stai a dì?” _What the fuck are you saying?_  Alberto asks.  
“Albè… ascolta…” _Alberto, listen…_  
Spadino’s features contort in shock. He rubs his fingers into his smooth chin. “E te come fai a sapè come me chiamo?” _How do you know what my name is?_  
  
Aureliano steps forward. Two pools of Caribbean blue bore into Spadino. One foot in front of the other... slowly, he advances as if he were working a mine field. In a way, he is.  
“Te pensi che n’ so come se chiama l’omo che m’ha fatto innamorà?” _You don’t think I know the name of the man that made me fall for him?  
_“Cosa?”  _What?_ Alberto's jaw drops. 

A dim flush races across Spadino’s face like a fever. He feels his heart sink, tears rising unbidden behind his lids. His palms sweat.  
Aureliano dares another stride and now he’s almost at arm’s length. If he doesn't say this shit now he'll lose his resolve and ...   
  
“Te dovevo bacià pur’io Albè. E che c’avevo paura. Te …m’hai dato core tuo e io te ho sputato ‘n faccia. Ce penso da ieri. Quanto son stato testa de cazzo. ‘Na merda. 'Na merda. E’ ‘na tortura per te t'ho fatto soffrì e mo' non me ne faccio ‘na ragione. Perdonami te prego.” _I should have kissed you back, Albè. But I was afraid. You gave me your heart and I spat on it. I’ve thought about it since yesterday. How much of an asshole I was. A piece of shit. This is torture for you I made you suffer and I can’t forgive myself. Please forgive me.”_  
  
Trembling, Alberto stares at him in disbelief, wiping errant tears from his throbbing eyes. His lashes drop quickly to hide the hurt.  
Aureliano’s pulse thunders between his ears and he’s not even sure he’s taken a conscious breath.  
  
“Aurelià… “  
Aureliano takes it as an invitation. Comes to within a hair's breadth. Interrupts.  
A tear rides the length of his nose and lands square into the corner of his wine-colored mouth. His voice trembles like his hands. Here goes everything.   
“Te amo Albè. Te amo. Me puoi perdonà?” _I love you, Albè. I love you. Can you forgive me?_  
  
Aureliano reaches for him, two fingers grazing the top of Alberto's hand.  
Alberto’s breath escapes soft and moist, a sinless sound a thing almost as pure as Aureliano’s confession. His heart-strings aren’t pulled, fuck they’ve snapped altogether.  
  
“La smetti di piagnè e me baci?“ _Will you stop crying and kiss me already?!_ He whispers.   
  
They crash into each other like two satellites whose orbits coincided. Aureliano hesitates but a microsecond later his mouth hungrily covers Alberto’s. Demanding lips caress.  
Their tongues meet over the smooth wetness of their teeth and when Aureliano cards into Alberto’s mohawk, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss... the younger moans softly and twists his fingers into Aureliano’s back.  
Aureliano feels faint. It’s all so beautiful and fucking overwhelming and goddamn PERFECT.  
_It just feels right._  
  
For a brief moment they break, Aureliano’s cerulean eyes still swollen from crying as they scan Alberto’s tiny face.  
“Te amo Albè… per quello che t’ho fatto… ogni giorno te farò capì quanto te amo. Te lo prometto _.” I love you Albè. For what I did to you, I’ll spend every day making sure you know how much I love you. I promise you that._  
Just a flicker of pain remains in Spadino’s espresso eyes, but feeling Aureliano’s strong arms around his neck centers him.  
“Non me devi niente, Aurelià. Amami e basta. Amami.” _You don’t owe me anything, Aurelià. Just love me. Love me._

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh these bois will be the end of me I swear. I SWEAR. I fall further and further into a tunnel with no exit.  
> I thank my lovely colleague ashkore_varg as always for the help with Romanesco. I wrote a bit of the dialogue myself so if I messed it up she isn't to blame. Her parts are correct for sure.  
> And both her and harscrow my bffs for the incredible love and support (as always!) in this fandom. You my gurls! Daje!!


End file.
